


Pin-Up

by WickedWiles



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Biting, Claiming, Crystal Tower (Final Fantasy XIV), Do the People of the Source Make Fanart and Fanfiction?, F/M, Female Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Fluff and Smut, I Know Seekers Don't Have Fangs and I Don't Care, I'm Supposed to be Writing Other Stuff Right Now, Masturbation, Miqo'te Purr and You Can't Convince Me Otherwise, Porn with Feelings, Still bad at tagging, YOU KNOW IT, this is kinda meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedWiles/pseuds/WickedWiles
Summary: While preparing to summon the Warrior of Light, the Crystal Exarch finds a surprise amongst the things he's collected over the years.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 23
Kudos: 140





	1. Pin-Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be working on a character backstory right now, but this little idea popped into my head last night and will not stop screaming at me.
> 
> I headcanon that both before and during all his time-hopping to find the right moment, the Exarch had his people searching for anything and everything related to the Warrior of Light, to better help him find her when the moment came, as an item or story closely connected with her could help him find her aether, even from beyond the rift.
> 
> He got some things he wasn't quite expecting in the process. >.>;

G’raha sighed heavily, lifting yet another box out of the way. True, he had asked for it, but he never imagined there would be quite so much _stuff_ associated with the Warrior of Light’s legend. Perhaps he should have been a little more discerning in his directive for them to bring him _everything_ they found as they moved through time, looking for the right moment.

Now that the Tower was safely established on the First, he needed to prepare to summon her across the rift; it was time to sort through all the myriad tales, trinkets, and relics to try and find that which had a true link, to help him connect with her aether though the infinite void. Which meant a lot of work sorting through useless junk that had no real bearing on the woman who was Sozaku Hatsumeisha.

There were a few glimmers of potential here and there, though. The tome from Ishgard, penned by one of the nobles, recounting her part in the city’s salvation and reformation had been most enlightening. And it had brought a fond smile to his face when he’d found the histories of Doma, to know that she had gone on to help bring freedom to her adopted homeland, a dream she had spoken of so fervently.

These last few boxes, unfortunately, had thus far proven to be nowhere near as illuminating. Mostly random pieces of things people claimed had belonged to her at one point or another, or far-fetched stories that were largely unbelievable, even for someone as adept at doing the impossible as she had been. He moved the lid of the one he had just uncovered aside, scanning over the jumble of items within.

A tightly rolled canvas caught his eye. Scrolls and paintings were among some of the more credible items he’d found thus far, so it seemed as good a place to start as any. Uncovering it, he found several more underneath, and began laying them out on the crystal floor.

His heart was racing by the time he was done, and he sat in the center of the semi-circle of paintings, mouth agape as he stared down at them.

_What in the seven hells…_

The artist was quite talented, he had to admit that. Her bright amber eyes looked back at him from each one, and he could almost see the sparkle deep within, the one he’d lost himself in time and again, listening to her speak about her studies or her latest theories about Allagan technology as the candles in the tents around Coinach’s Find burned low. From the subtle stripes on her stormcloud-grey skin, to the way her dark hair faded into ghostly white points, the softness of her tail and the lean, sparse curves of her form, the likeness was uncanny. There was no doubt the artist had first-hand knowledge of her, and he could almost have believed she might have even posed for such works, except…

His face burned. Under no circumstances could he ever imagine her willingly wearing anything like this, and certainly not posing like _that,_ in such situations.

From one, she smirked wickedly up at him, lounging across the cockpit of her reclaimed magitek armor, legs hanging over the side, wearing shorts that barely qualified as such, and a too-small top that exposed much of her stomach, disheveled and pushed up in a way that it stopped just short of exposing the lower curves of her breasts. One hand appeared to be lazily caressing the machine’s controls, while the other had her fingers tucked just under the waistband of her shorts.

From another, she glanced coyly back over her shoulder, laying on her stomach across tangled bedclothes, kicking her bare feet in the air behind her, her tail curved to the side, the end curled in a silent invitation. The dangerously short, skin-tight dress again stopped just shy of exposing too much as it was hiked scandalously high on her thighs, and one of the thin straps slipped off of her shoulder to drape down her arm.

The rest were very much in the same vein, different poses, different clothes, but all decidedly _provocative_. Perched on the edge of a desk, stretched out on the sand at the ocean’s edge, bending over to work on a small airship; it seemed there was no end to the artist’s imaginings.

The warmth that flushed his cheeks was rapidly spreading to other places in his body, awakening thoughts he’d not had for ages, having forced himself to set them aside long ago. Not since Mor Dhona, when the slightest brush of her arm against his as they worked side-by-side had sent electric thrills through him, her soft laughter making his tail curl in anticipation.

It had perplexed him, at the time. She was not the most attractive woman he’d met; not unpleasant to look upon, certainly, but no dazzling beauty either. And yet he found himself yearning for her company whenever she left the Find, wanting to hear her voice, see that light in her eyes. He tried to distract himself with the mysteries of the Tower, but eventually, the realization that he had helplessly, hopelessly fallen for her brilliant mind and her warm, loving soul caught up with him.

Ah, if only he’d realized it sooner.

They’d kissed, once, in the rush of adrenaline born of relief and joy when they’d made it back from the Darkness, alive and unharmed. So overwhelmed in the moment, he almost didn’t know what to do when she threw her arms around him and pressed her mouth to his, but when he recovered and eagerly responded, she let her lips part to allow him entry, and he felt her tail curling around to brush against his leg. Sliding his fingers through her hair, he’d felt as if the entire world had fallen away, and there was nothing but the two of them, in a moment that could last for all time.

It hadn’t, of course.

He covered his eyes with a hand, trying to take a deep breath. He should put them aside, put them away, get _rid_ of them as soon as possible. Resolutely he began rolling them up again, though when he reached the last one, he hesitated.

Of all of them, this one caught his attention the most. She kneeled on the ground, looking up with an expression that was different than the rest; not a fabricated attempt at seduction, but just _her_ , with that warm, open smile, the tips of her fangs just visible. Leaned forward slightly, one hand was planted on the ground between her knees, tools scattered around her in disarray. A slight smudge of something probably meant to be oil darkened her cheek, and she held a tool up in her other hand, using it to push her goggles up onto her forehead. She wore blue coveralls, much like the ones he’d seen her wear while assisting the Ironworks, although never _undone_ like that. The front was open, exposing her skin in a V that dipped down, down, _maddeningly_ far down, stopping well below her navel. Open enough at the top to expose the curves of her breasts as they disappeared under the fabric, enough to see that she was clearly wearing absolutely nothing underneath it.

Gods, it was so expertly done, so life-like, it was far too easy to imagine how she’d look if she kept leaning until she was on her hands and knees, crawling forward. How his name would sound falling from her lips as she reached him-

He realized with a start that he was breathing heavily, almost panting, and his robes were becoming uncomfortably warm as his desire stirred, growing harder by the moment.

No. This wasn’t right. He closed his eyes, searching desperately for calm, for control. She was too powerful, too important to be debased by his lewd imaginings in this way.

Oh, but closing them only made it worse, made it all too easy to see her in his mind’s eye still, to see how she would sit up on her knees, nuzzling her face against him, to hear her breathe his name.

_G’raha._

He could not, should not do this.

…

If he did not, he would surely go mad.

He groaned and sat back on his heels, slipping his hands inside his robe, eyes still closed. Ears laid back against his head, he imagined her pushing the robe up, hands sliding over his thighs, tracing along the places where crystal met flesh. Shivers ran down his spine as he took himself in hand, thinking of how she would brush hers along his length; slowly at first, gently, not wanting it to end too quickly, not before she could fully explore him.

And when she would take him into her mouth – he let out a low whine at the thought, stroking himself harder, imagining the warm, wet feel of her tongue tracing up the length, enveloping the tip, sucking slightly as she slid her mouth further down, clever tongue dancing over the most sensitive spots. She would keep her eyes on him the whole time, bright and curious, watching for his reactions. Purring her pleasure when she found the things that had him crying out, testing them again to be sure. He would try to keep control, to keep his hips from bucking mindlessly into her mouth, but oh, it would be so, _so_ good to let go…

His hips jerked forward as he rutted into his own hand, open-mouthed and truly panting now, his fingers slick with his arousal. He would not finish in her mouth, as hard as it would be to pull back, to push her off. Would she pout? Or would she be impatient with her own need, breathily whispering for him to touch her, to _have_ her, right _now_?

And he would, pushing the coveralls open even further, pulling them off of her, worshipping her neck, her breasts with his lips and hands until she mewled her pleasure for him. Turning her around, putting her back on her hands and knees, stroking her tail as he would bury himself within her, over and over, taking her like only a Nunh would as she cried out his name.

_Raha, Raha…_

And to hear her shout as he bit down on her neck, claiming her as his own as she tightened around him-

He came _hard_ , almost blacking out for a moment as he arched his back, his seed spilling over his fingers, sticking to the inside of his robes. Leaning back, panting and trembling, he continued to stroke himself for a few more moments, until the sensation was too much to bear. Opening his eyes again, he looked up at the vaulted crystal ceiling, a dull tingling of shame washing over him.

Sozaku deserved better than this. Better than him.

He stood shakily, trying not to look down at the painting. He would go clean himself, and then…well, as he thought before, he should get rid of them.

 _All_ of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With all the build-up around the Warrior of Light, the legends, the people that they touch on their journeys...you know there's someone out there in Eorzea writing fanfiction or making fanart. Just like us. :3
> 
> A slight continuation of this to come, after I stop procrastinating on this character backstory that I need to have done in like...an hour. ;w;


	2. Pinned Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A better outcome than one would expect from having one's secret porn stash discovered, honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no. I left my 'horny catfolk indulge their instincts' fic out in the sun next to my 'two cinnamon rolls have feelings at each other' fic, and they've melted together into some sort of (very lengthy) abomination. Whatever shall I do.
> 
> *posts*
> 
> Also, how sturdy do you think this fourth wall is? *hefts sledgehammer*

“Oh. Hmm. Whoops.”

G’raha’s ears swiveled towards the sound, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on his reading, trying not to be concerned about either her faint murmur or the dull crashing noise that had preceded it. Everything in there was more or less hers anyway; when she’d found out about the collecting he’d done to assist his summoning, she was eager to see what sort of things he’d picked up, and he couldn’t see a good reason to deny her curiosity.

He wasn’t half as focused on his studies as he was on listening to her reactions to the things she was discovering. He sorely wished he could see her face for some of the noises she was making, but the small side room barely had enough room for one person, let alone two, with all the items it had to contain. And given that their dynamic was still somewhat shaky after everything that had happened, giving her space felt like the right thing to do.

She’d figured him out rather quickly; in hindsight, he should’ve expected that it would take much more than a magically altered voice and a glamour to keep her from the truth. She hadn’t pushed the issue or outed him to the rest of the Scions, but he could see it in her eyes every time they spoke, a puzzled hurt at his continued charade. The verbal lashing she’d given him when they returned to the Crystarium, once all the celebrations had faded and the Scions had returned to their respective tasks, was something he’d not soon forget.

She seemed to have forgiven him when all was said and done, though it left them on uncertain footing; he kept a polite distance in their interactions as she came and went, and though part of him remained restless, unsatisfied, he told himself it was for the best.

His thoughts drifted back to the present, and he realized it had gotten very quiet while he’d been musing. Too quiet.

“Sozaku?” He put the book aside, ears twitching as he rose from the desk, listening for any sort of response. Surely he hadn’t been so distracted that she managed to leave without him noticing. His brow furrowed as silence continued to greet him, and he failed to keep the urgency of his concern from his steps as he reached the door.

Before he could cross the threshold, she emerged, almost running right into him, and he was forced to grab her shoulders to steady them both from their near collision.

Her face was flushed a bit, cheeks darkened with a mixture of what seemed like both embarrassment and excitement, given the smile she was fighting to keep from her lips, and her voice was somewhat breathless when she laughed in response to their predicament.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t hear you coming in.”

“I…wished to see how you were faring.” He realized he was still holding onto her shoulders and flushed a bit himself, dropping his hands hurriedly. “Is aught amiss?”

“Nay, naught to worry about. It has been a most…enlightening experience. I, um…just remembered I have some errands that need attending to before the day is out, so…” She waved a hand absently, though the quick movements of her tail, and the way her ears were moving betrayed her agitation. Deception had never been one of her strong points, and his brow furrowed further as he watched her.

“I…I see. If you are certain that-”

“Absolutely! I should not keep you from your studies any further. I shall just…let myself out, then.”

The sudden rush of aether around her, followed by the faint thrum of the air as she vanished, left him blinking at the space she’d just vacated, bewildered.

The puzzled feeling lingered for the remainder of the day, and into the next. He was no closer to any answers as he finally put aside his books, climbing the stairs to his chambers, his mind still poring over the possibilities. It wasn’t unusual for her to get very animated when she had one of her ideas, but what sort of theories she could have possibly come up with while rummaging through relics of her past (or future), he couldn’t possibly imagine. Perhaps something she’d seen had sparked an idea-

G’raha froze in his tracks, still only about halfway into the room he’d claimed as his personal chambers, as the sight that greeted him finally registered on his distracted thoughts.

 _That_ painting. Stretched out on an easel that had been set up at the foot of his bed, turned to face the door. Gods, he’d almost forgotten about it entirely, since he’d tucked it away into…that…room…

_Oh hells._

The sound of the door closing behind him had him nearly jumping right out of his skin, the fur on his tail standing on end as he whirled around, only to freeze again with his jaw hitting the proverbial floor.

Sozaku leaned against the door for a moment before taking slow, deliberate steps towards him, pausing a few fulms away, watching him intently, her eyes practically glowing. Black-rimmed goggles rested on her forehead, the red lenses reflecting the light of the crystalline room. The coveralls she wore were different than the ones the Ironworks favored, done in a dark coal grey, fitted to hug her lean frame.

“I have a theory, G’raha Tia.” Her voice was soft, and somewhat lower than usual. “If, as you said, the things you kept had a particular connection or significance to me, and you discarded much else that did not…” Her eyes darted over his shoulder to the painting for a moment, her lips curving into a small smile. “It stands to reason that something like this piece would remain because you _liked_ it.”

His heart skipped a beat as she sank down onto her knees, mimicking the position in the painting, and he all but forgot to breathe when she started undoing buttons one by one.

“Which leads me to conclude that just maybe…. you still remember what you felt…what _we_ felt together. And that you might also like this.” She paused, glancing up at him as she opened the last button, pulling the fabric aside just a touch to expose a tantalizing amount of skin. “Judging by that look, I think the theory holds up.”

His mind struggled to process everything that was happening, but the rest of him had no qualms about agreeing wholeheartedly with her assessment, and warmth washed over him, settling on his cheeks and deep in his core. His mouth was quite dry, and he finally closed it with some effort, choking on his words.

“S-sozaku…I…you…”

She leaned forward a little more, and he was suddenly aware she was trembling slightly, but her smile was the same one to which he’d surrendered his heart, so long ago.

“So tell me…am I right?”

His mind flooded with myriad reasons why he should say no, justifications to deny himself, to hold back the truth once more. He was too old, bound to the Tower, no longer a whole man, maybe not even the same man she knew.

But she was not the kind of woman who took action thoughtlessly or without purpose; he would be a fool to think she had not considered those possibilities herself. And if she was still here, giving him such a bold invitation…

“…yes.” It was barely more than a whisper as he exhaled.

Her eyes sparkled with interest as she leaned forward even further, almost on her hands and knees now.

“When you looked at it…did you think of me?”

The warmth on his cheeks flared, spreading through his skin, and he was sure even the crystal across his face and neck had to be turning pink at this rate. He nodded, unable to summon his voice.

“Tell me.” She sounded slightly breathless herself now.

He trembled, closing his eyes for a moment. It was far, far too easy to conjure it back into his mind’s eye again.

“Y-you…would crawl to me…” The rustle of fabric caught his attention, and he opened his eyes to find her doing just that, with her tail curving up behind her in an alluring question mark shape and her ears perked forward, watching him intently.

She stopped at his feet, sitting up on her knees. He could see down the open front of her coveralls, skin just as bare underneath as it was in that cursed, _blessed_ , painting.

“And then?”

“You…touch me…” Gods, it sounded like he was begging for it rather than simply stating what he’d imagined, his voice more of a whimper now than anything else, ears pinned back against his head. Everything she was doing, the way she looked, it was all so familiar, so close to what he’d envisioned, and yet startlingly, vividly different at the same time.

Her hands tugged at his robes, pulling the layers aside, finding the fastenings hidden under the folds, and though she certainly didn’t dawdle about it, it still felt like an age before it fell away, pooling on the ground around his feet. He felt a moment of doubt, the crystal that cut through his form feeling all the more unnatural as it was exposed to the air and her sight.

But oh, the way her eyes lit up as she looked at him, stretching up to run her fingers over the seams of crystal and flesh; the weight of the centuries vanished, the feelings of unnaturalness and hesitation lifted along with them. She pressed a kiss to his stomach, just above his navel, and he could feel the heat of her lips through the crystal, rising to a molten surge of desire as it coursed through him.

“Beautiful.” She nuzzled her face against him, just as he’d known she would, before looking up at him in awe. “G’raha…”

“Just…please…just Raha…”

“ _Raha…_ ” she breathed against him, eyes closed for a moment, and he shook uncontrollably at the sound, more intoxicating than he ever imagined. Cocking her head to look up at him again, she smirked, the tips of her fangs glinting between her lips. “For you…Soza.”

He repeated it breathlessly, but before he could truly bask in the significance of it, she was tugging down his smallclothes, and her fingers wrapping around him blanked out his mind to everything else. Were he still able to think straight, he might’ve been embarrassed by the choked whine that escaped him, or the way his hips jerked forward, thrusting into her hand.

She kept her grip loose at first, watching him with fascination as he reacted to every slight pressure, twitching against her skin, breathy moans coming out unabated as he began to pant under her ministrations. But she did not even allow him the time to truly adjust to that before she leaned forward, never breaking eye contact, and ran her tongue all the way up the underside of his length.

 _Wicked white._ How had he ever been so foolish to imagine he would be able to retain control for even a moment?

He cried out, bucking his hips in earnest as she took the tip of him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the edges, flicking over the vein underneath again. He buried his fingers in her hair, moving them up to rub at her ears, anything to try and distract himself for a moment.

She let her eyes drift closed a bit, purring around him as she melted into the touch, and he very nearly came undone then and there.

He pushed her shoulders back, falling to his knees as she released him, and he chased her mouth with his own, claiming it in a fierce kiss. The faint taste of himself on her tongue as she parted her lips for him only inflamed his already frantic need, and he continued to press her back, bearing her to the floor. He wanted to be gentle and thorough, as he had been with lovers in the past, or at least slow down enough to make it to the godsdamned bed.

But something about her had his instincts kicked into overdrive, an intensity he’d never had to contend with coursing through his blood, setting every fiber of his being on edge with the need to _take,_ to _mate_ , to _claim_. He’d never had designs on being a Nunh; was this how they felt?

If she was bothered by his urgency, she certainly didn’t show it, arching up against him as his hands shoved the coveralls off of her shoulders, freeing her arms to wrap around his neck. The feeling of her fingers slipping through his hair and stroking up over his ears was _divine_ , and he moaned into her mouth. His hands cupped her breasts roughly, kneading and caressing for a moment before he finally tore himself away from her lips to latch his over a pert nipple, flicking his tongue over it and nipping gently.

Her gasps and moans were punctuated by more pleased purring as he continued to lavish attention between her breasts, his fingers toying with whichever one his mouth was not currently teasing. It gave him some small measure of self-control, distracting himself with her pleasure. The steady rubbing of his ears was really starting to drive him mad, though, and he couldn’t help grinding his hips against her, desperate for the friction on his aching length.

“Oh… _Raha_ …I do _love_ where your mind has taken us thus far…” She leaned up to nip at the tip of his ear gently. “So tell me…what happens next?”

He swallowed hard, unable to answer right away. Pushing himself up on one arm, he slid his crystalline hand down between her legs, pressing between her folds. A strange, fierce swell of pride overcame him as wet heat pulsed through the crystal, and she whimpered, closing her eyes and pushing her hips up towards him.

“We…you…you let me take you…as a Nunh would… _gods…_ ” He delved further, pushing a finger into her, his thumb circling roughly around the swollen bud above, the sight of her shivering and panting sending hot, insistent surges straight to his groin.

“A-ah! I…I don’t know what that means…” she looked a little sheepish as she admitted it, opening her eyes, her cheeks darkening as she flushed. “But I want you…however you’ll have me… _please…_ ”

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that she’d been raised by Hyur in Doma, and had little knowledge of her own tribe, let alone his. But the way she whispered her plea, and the driving urges coursing through him left him only one option; to show her exactly what he meant.

Everything blurred for a few moments, a rush of sensations. The feeling of movement, of the sweet warmth of her lips again, fabric against his fingertips, soon replaced with warm, bare skin, the sound of their shared panting and gasping ringing in his ears. It wasn’t until her tail brushed against his cheek, soft and sensual, that he came back to himself fully.

Somehow he’d flipped her over, pulled her back up onto her hands and knees, and now she waited as he kneeled behind her, watching him over her shoulder, her dark pupils wide with anticipation and desire, making the bright amber of her irises seem to burn all the more in contrast. Her ears were pinned back slightly, and her tail continued to wave slowly in front of him, ghosting soft touches to his face and neck.

Everything in him was eager to move forward at once, to bury himself within her with abandon, to take what she offered so freely without a second thought. But he held himself back a moment more, a final act of defiance against his roaring blood. He bent over, trailing kisses down her spine, smoothing his hands over her sides. Nuzzling into the back of her neck, breathing heavily against her skin, wanting her to feel how much he treasured her, despite the feral urges he was powerless to resist for long.

“Soza…”

Her tail curled around his arm, and her answering sigh of his name was the bane of the last thread of his restraint.

He pressed himself into her as slowly as he could manage, growling against her shoulder blades as the exquisite heat enveloped him. She shuddered and moaned underneath him, her hips pushing back as he moved forward, but he could not allow either of them the time to adjust, pulling back and then driving forward again at a punishing pace, fingers digging into her soft skin for leverage.

Nothing in the world could have stopped him or slowed him down in that moment, but she had only encouragement to offer, crying out a broken jumble of praise, his name, and breathy curses as he pounded into her. His own words suddenly returned to him, falling from his lips, as uncontrollable as his need.

“ _Gods_ …you have no idea how long I have dreamed about you…like this…in my arms…just _here_ …ever since our days at the Find,” he panted, and she moaned breathlessly in return, her ears twitching towards the sound of his voice. “When I saw the painting… _wicked white_ …I could not help myself…I tried to let it go so many times, but when everything became too much…too empty…I went back again and again…to it, to you…always to _you…_ ” Her breathing was growing more erratic, her cries higher in pitch as he continued. “You move something in me…no one else ever has…I need you… _so much…_ ”

He was so, _so_ maddeningly close, and he could feel her already tight warmth starting to clench around him, a low, keening cry emanating from her lips, her head thrown back and her eyes-half closed. But he could not allow it to end, not yet…not until she was truly, inescapably his.

“ _Please_ …I need to…to make you _mine_ …” He was all but snarling against her neck now, leaving wild, open-mouthed kisses on her skin, hips still thrusting into her with frenzied abandon. “Please, _Soza_ … _please…let me…_ ”

She may have been unfamiliar with the ways of their people, but her instincts were still as strong as his; she rolled her head to the side, exposing the place he wanted most.

“Yes… _Raha…I am yours…_ ”

His teeth sunk into her, _hard_ , and her low cry turned into a scream of his name as she spasmed around him. He growled in triumph as the metallic tang of her blood hit his tongue, and he thrust wildly a few more times before he spilled inside her, throbbing with the mixed heat of their release. Grinding mindlessly against each other for a little longer, they finally stilled, sated and spent.

By some miracle of the Twelve, he managed to hold her up as her arms gave way, clutching her to his chest, and even as the tremors of exhaustion took his own limbs, he scooped her up, stumbling towards the bed. Collapsing upon it, he held her tight against his chest, nuzzling the back of her neck, his indistinct murmurings of affection met with a weak, exhausted purring.

Eventually his breathing returned to something nearing normal, and the beat of her heart against him settled to a steady, soothing rhythm. He hovered his fingers over the small, welling points of blood at the junction of her neck and shoulder, his brow furrowed.

“Forgive me…I…I can heal it for you, hopefully it will not scar…”

She rolled over to face him, moving the wound out of his reach. “I hope it will.” Her fingers traced the crystal on his cheek. “That way, no matter what happens…I’ll have something of you. Forever.” A smile crept over her lips, and she tapped his nose lightly. “Not that I plan on letting you get away with trying to martyr yourself again, mind you.”

His throat was suddenly very tight, and his vision blurred slightly, stinging the corners of his eyes. “Soza…I-”

She moved her fingers down to his lips. “Stop right there. I know every argument you are about to try; believe me, I have gone over all of them myself in great detail. With everything that has happened, and not knowing what might still be in store…it is arguable that yes, you are not the same G’raha I knew. Or that I’m not the Sozaku _you_ knew. Or maybe we both are and are not at the same time, and this is exactly why I always say debating temporal theory is pointless because it is illogical at best, and everything just gets horribly muddled at worst, no matter what Nero tries to claim…” She broke off, blinking and furrowing her brow. “Wait, I’ve gotten off track.”

He huffed softly, bemused, watching her lips move silently as she retraced her thoughts.

She seemed to give up after a moment, shrugging. “Well, what matters is…I fell in love with a charming, playful, wonderfully insightful historian…and with a gentle, kind, selfless leader. And they’re both you.” She kissed him gently, before pulling back, eyes sparkling with some amusement. “And nothing you can say will possibly convince me otherwise, _particularly_ not after that incredible experience, so there is no point in wasting your breath.”

He had to chuckle softly at her matter-of-fact tone, resting his forehead against hers.

“By the Twelve…what did I do to deserve this miracle…to go from living on borrowed time, ready to give up everything…to being _here_?”

She laughed softly. “Well, you can thank the painting for most of the last bit, at any rate.”

“I must admit, I am slightly surprised you were not…well, more displeased by it.”

Her cheeks darkened a little.

“It would not be the first time I’ve seen it.”

He blinked. “You…you knew about it?”

“Had it in my possession at one point, to be honest. Someone left it, and several others, if I recall, on Cid’s worktable in Revenant’s Toll one day, with some message about ‘shipping’ us, whatever that means. Oh, you should have seen his face, he was as red as your hair.” She giggled, a bright, musical sound he’d not heard from her often, and his heart leapt as he pulled her closer. “He gave them to me; he was so flustered he didn’t know what else to do with them. Tataru mentioned something about getting Y’shtola and F’lhaminn to pose as well, maybe even Thancred, if we could find the artist…she wanted to turn it in to some sort of book to help raise money for the Scions. I never did hear why she gave up on that particular idea….” She paused, looking pensive for a moment. “I wonder what happened to the rest of them.”

Heat washed over his face again, and he tried to hide his mumbled reply by pressing his face into her hair.

“…storage. The lower levels…lost control of some of the defense systems down there, never had a chance to go back and move the rest of the boxes out of the tower…”

A slow, mischievous smile crept across her face, though she tried to sound as innocent as possible as she pressed against him.

“Well…mayhaps we’ll have to go after them at some point…see what sort of ideas you get from _those…”_

He choked off a whimper as his body began to stir again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, that's the real reason we're running the Twinning, folks...the Exarch needs to get to the rest of his stash.
> 
> Sozaku's not usually this much of a seductress, but sometimes drastic action is needed, lol.
> 
> This took...way too long to write. I had to keep taking breaks. >.>;
> 
> Also I don't think I've ever used so many ellipses in one work in my life. It's a handy way to convey pauses and out-of-breath-ness, and I probably overuse it, but oh well.


End file.
